


Hanahaki

by IGuessIWriteStuffNow



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (not really) - Freeform, Angst, Blood, Canon Era, Crying, Description of blood, Eventual Happy Ending, Fighting, Finally fluff???, Flowers, Getting Together, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Jack being sweet, Jack is Sad and Insecure, Jack tries to be helpful, Kath is a good friend, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not a lot though, Pining, Post-Canon, Sickness, The last chapter is really just an epilogue, Unrequited Love, hanahaki disease au, if you love that like i do, ill explain what that is in notes if you dont know, like this is pretty much done, lots of tears are shed, lots of the sarah&davey sibling relationship, protect male/female friendships, really fluffy and cute, supportive sarah, this is so sappy wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-23 19:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGuessIWriteStuffNow/pseuds/IGuessIWriteStuffNow
Summary: Davey had never thought he would get the disease. There had been no warning signs- he hadn’t even known he was in love. But the moment he saw the petal, displayed in a shower of blood, he didn’t even have to wonder who it was for. There was no one else it could have been.There was only Jack.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic includes the "hanahaki disease"- a fictional disease thats probably from some work of fiction (i would guess anime) and involves a person who falls in unrequited love, and has the mental symptoms of severe pining manifest in physical symptoms. Mainly, flowers grow in the lungs, making the afflicted person cough up flower petals and blood, until eventually they are suffocated by the petals.
> 
> Which is exactly the type of dark poetic shit that I love
> 
> In some versions of the AU there is a cure (but it makes the person with the disease forget the person they love) but I decided this is canon era so that probably wasn't invented yet. Also, I see it as a genetic disease (those with the gene have the potential to get it, but not everyone does) that is so incredibly rare that it didn't warrant any research, and therefore, most people haven't heard of it.
> 
> But yeah that being said, blood is mentioned a lot in this fic. I don't think it would be considered gore, exactly, but there are some gore-ish descriptions. So be warned. (to be fair, this was written by a fairly squeamish person, and i had no problem with it, so... just wanted to say this in case)

It was difficult to pinpoint, Davey thought, the exact moment he fell in love with Jack Kelly.

Maybe it was just the week prior, when Jack had come over for dinner and told stories that made his face light up and left Davey’s family fascinated. He’d entertained Les with jokes, asked Sarah how work was going, and praised his mother’s cooking so many times that Davey wondered if she might adopt him as a third son. Jack had stayed over that night, spine pressed against his in the small bed, and thanked Davey for allowing him to feel like a part of the family. Davey had assured him that there was no need for thanks, even as a secret smile came over his face, because he’d never thought of it before, and it was an amazing thought. Jack was practically his _family_. 

Or, maybe, Davey had loved him for months longer than that. Maybe it was seeing him, face glowing with pride and success after defeating Pulitzer, that made Davey fall. The knowledge that Davey had helped put that expression on Jack’s face had left his mind buzzing with happiness and excitement. He couldn’t have explained why at the time, but seeing Jack that delighted left his heart glowing. But then, maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe it was just a few minutes later, when he saw Jack’s arms wrapped around Katherine’s waist, kissing her like she was the only thing in the world. He had known how he felt towards her- it was so obvious- and yet he couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw Jack embracing her so lovingly.

Maybe it was the day a few weeks after the strike ended, when he’d been selling next to Jack, and couldn’t help but notice how bloodshot his friend’s eyes looked. His first few questions had been shrugged off, but eventually, Jack admitted that Kath had broken up with him the night before. Maybe it was that crushing sadness he felt for Jack mixed with a terrible lightness of his heart that should have clued him in that whatever he felt for Jack ran deeper than platonic.

Maybe, he thought, maybe he’d loved Jack since the first day they met. Maybe he’d fallen the moment Jack stood next to him, spending a full quarter on a boy he didn’t know. Maybe it was the muted pain and jealousy on Jack’s features when he realized Davey had parents, and the feeling of freedom that came from running beside him, and the beauty of his artwork, maybe that had accumulated in an instant form of love.

He didn’t really think it was that last one, though. He’d never been foolish enough to believe in love at first sight.

Regardless of when it had been, after weeks or months or seconds, he had fallen for Jack- his best friend, his selling partner, _a boy_. It had happened. And now Davey had to pay for it.

The azure petal seemed to glare up at him from the porcelain sink, the color crashing so horrifically with the carmine blood splattered around it. Minutes prior, when he’d first began coughing, he hadn’t thought anything of it. Everyone got colds. But then came a dull, metallic flavor seeping into his tastebuds, and he’d ran to the bathroom, coughing until something flat and round settled on his tongue. He had frozen where he stood, knowing immediately what it was- what it _meant_ \- but too scared to check. The blood had seemed to make his mouth burn, begging him to rinse it of the blood as if it would take away the illness as well.

With shaking hands unclenched from shaking fists, he had slowly reached up and removed the offending flower petal. He had dropped it the moment he was able to see it and watched its hideous descent until it hit the side of the sink.

It wasn’t until the tears had already made shining streaks down the side of his face that he realized he was crying.

Memories shot through his head as he stared at the petal, of his aunt had been diagnosed many years prior. Her unrequited love for a married man was so strong that it made flowers bloom in her lungs, winding up her windpipe until they suffocated her. He remembered seeing her in a bed, unable to leave because she was constantly coughing up the petals. He hadn’t known- how could he have understood, at so young, a sickness so severe it made the mental effects of unrequited love physical? All he had known was the stiffness of the suit he had to wear to her funeral.

Davey had never thought he would get it, too. There had been no warning signs; he hadn’t even known he was in love. But the moment he saw the petal, displayed as the centerpiece in amongst a splatter of blood, he didn’t even have to wonder who it was for. Who else could it have been?

There was only Jack.

And Jack would never feel for Davey the way Davey did for him. No, but it has his beautiful smile and exquisite artwork and brave soul and kind heart that had enraptured Davey in the worst way possible.

But it wasn’t fair to blame him. It wasn’t his fault that Davey was so lonely and pathetic that he fell for the first person to befriend him. No, it wasn't Jack’s fault. It was Davey’s. He'd been careless with his heart, and now he had to pay the price.

The blood in the sink mingled with tears, leaving the petal doused in a sickly solution. He coughed again, sending a jolt of fear through his chest. With one hand, he clawed at the skin on his neck, bitten down fingernails making small dents that did nothing to stop the flowers lodging in his trachea. He tried to muffle the sound with his other hand- he didn’t want to wake his family- but it only left his pale skin stained with red when shuddering coughs forced their way out of his mouth. 

He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t really hit him until then, the full implication of every drop of blood and every flower he could feel already growing. But seeing his hand come away from his mouth, covered in the blood that offending petals had scraped from his throat, everything was there with surprising clarity.

He was sick.

He loved Jack Kelly.

He was going to die.


	2. Chapter 2

Coughing was a common sound to be heard in late winter, before spring arrived to warm away the sickness. And so, when Sarah heard her brother coughing for the first few times, she assumed it was just a passing cold. The sickness dragged on, consistent coughs spread over a week, and she began to worry. She told herself she was paranoid, at first. She was the eldest and, being such, she was prone to worrying for her younger brothers and wanting to protect them from any harm. But whatever was happening with Davey was not right, and not normal, and she knew he was too proud to ask for help (he always had been, never wanting to trouble anyone. It was infuriating to those who actually wished to help him). She would just have to get it out of him herself.

“Davey?” She caught her brother’s arm as he stood to walk away from the dinner table. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nodded, but the way he glanced over her shoulder and began fiddling with his shirt cuffs belied his calm expression. “Of course.”

“Mama, David and I will be out on the fire escape for a minute.”

Sarah waited to see her mother nod and offer a simple, “Come back in soon,” before pulling Davey out of the window to stand in the cold night air.

“What do you need me for?” A pensive expression crossed her brother’s face as he fixed his gaze down on the street below. She watched him from the other side of the fire escape, wondering how many of the people below he could see in the dark.

“You’ve been coughing.” It wasn’t eloquent, her words, and she wasn’t beating around the bush. Despite his complete inability to lie, Davey was masterful at using language to his advantage, and could talk around a subject for hours. She didn’t have time for any of that, not today.

His eyes stayed locked on the ground, but now it felt more forced. “I think I have a cold.”

“You’re lying.” His lying had improved, somewhat, from spending so much time with the newsboys. But it was still all too easy for Sarah to see through him. “You’ve been more secretive and standoffish, too. I’m your sister, Davey. I can tell when something’s wrong.”

“I’m _fine,_ ” he insisted, but the words were so empty. “I just- I don’t-”

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Why won’t you tell me what it is?” A thought occurred to her. “Is this about medicine?” The cost of living was a high one, and if Davey needed medicine, especially one with a high cost. it would debilitate family’s finances. But that wasn’t worth Davey’s health. “Is it expensive? We can make money-”

“We can’t.” Davey’s knuckles turned white as he grasped the railing in tight fists, his face contorted in what looked like a mix of anger and grief. Sarah was about to ask what he meant, but then he was speaking again. “There isn’t a cure.” A hand seemed to grip at Sarah’s heart, clamping it in a cold grip. Davey wasn’t- couldn’t- her _brother_ -

“David- Davey-” Her words were closer to sputters. “Davey, tell me what’s happening.”

“Aunt Rose. Do you remember her?” Sarah’s nod was stiff. Aunt Rose had passed when Sarah was only five, but she had faint memories of a smiling woman sneaking her candy when she didn’t think Sarah’s parents could see. “She fell in love with a man who didn’t love her. When he rejected her, she was in so much pain that that pain manifested in flowers that grew in her lungs. They suffocated her.”

“Hanahaki.” Sarah hadn’t heard the word in over a decade, yet it came back to her in an instant. The disease had terrified her when she was young. It would creep into her dreams, filling her nightmares with the taste of bitter petals and metallic blood. The feeling of petals wrapping around her chest and squeezing her until she couldn’t breathe left her scared to fall asleep. Even when her parent’s assured it- it was _so_ rare, she would _never_ get it, she still failed to rid herself of the fear. Her parents had been right. She didn’t get it. But, now, the fear was back, and more overwhelming than it had been when she was five. Because if Davey was implying what she thought he was… “Why are you reminding me of this?”

“I think- I’ve realized- Sarah, I-I’m dying.” His rose to meet hers, and it was only then that she could see the tears shining in their corners. He was… terrified, she realized. And, who wouldn’t be, if they truly believed their time on earth was so limited? She hadn’t seen look so scared in, well, she couldn’t even remember how long. It made her want to hide him behind her, the way she had when they were kids, and beat up the bullies trying to hurt her little brother. But she couldn’t. There wasn’t anyone she could punch that could fix her brother’s terror. “I’m in love with Jack.” The confession fell from his lips without hesitation. Despite the horror of the rest of the conversation, it soothed Sarah to know she was trusted with such a dangerous secret- even though it wasn’t an entirely surprising reveal. Davey looked at Jack in a way only lovestruck teenagers looked at the object of their affection. Sarah had always suspected.

“And you-”

“I’ve been coughing up fucking flower petals for a week.” He made a noise between a laugh and a sob, and Sarah couldn’t stand still any longer. She crossed the length of the fire escape and wrapped her around him, smoothing her hand down his spine. Though he was taller than her, by a lot, he melted into her arms like a child, moving closer to her. Her sleeve began to dampen with tears as he held onto her, and she carded her fingers through his hair, humming softly in hopes to calm him.

“You have to tell him, Davey.”

Her words were met with an empty laugh. “No, I don’t. And I’m not going to.”

“It heals you if the person loves you back.” She said it with authority, though she had no idea if it was true or not. It made sense. If the unrequited is requited, what is the need for pain?

“So? He doesn’t love me.”

“Have you asked?” He was quiet, then shook his head. “He could _save you_ , Davey.”

He turned away. “Doubtful. It’s much more likely he will hate me, instead.” Sarah tried to speak, to argue, but he cut her off. “I’m okay, with this. I mean, no, no I’m not. I-I don’t want to die. But…” He sighed. “If I have to- have to die, I don’t want it to be with my best friend hating me. Please, don’t tell him.”

She wanted so badly to yell and fight and convince him that it _was_ worth the risk. His life had to be worth it. But her hands were clasped in his and he was practically begging to just let him have that one thing. She hesitated for one more moment, then nodded. “We’re going to find a way to fix this, Davey. There has to be a cure.” Davey just fixed her with an empty half smile before turning his entire body away. She reached out to him, fingertips barely brushing his elbow before he broke out in a fit of coughs. It was loud, and sudden, and she stepped back in surprise. The tremors of his body were almost frightening. _God, he was_ so sick.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was the first thing he said after over a minute of coughing, muffled by the hand covering his mouth. 

Sarah stepped closer to him and traced circles on his shoulder with her thumb. “Don’t apologize, Davey. It isn’t something you can help.” 

He nodded. His fists were clenched at his sides, and Sarah could see a hint of crimson peeking through the pale fingers. “I know. But I don’t like being seen like this.”

“Davey, remember, I’m your sister. I see you at your highs, your lows, and everything in between. And I’m sticking with you through it all.” The corner of his mouth flickered up. She wished she could give him a full smile. “It’s okay to be scared, Davey.”

“I’m not-” She glared at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m scared.” He mussed his hair with the hand that wasn’t still clenched in a fist. “It’s just… I took on- on _Pulitzer_ , the whole _World_. It wasn’t just me, of course. It was Jack, and Katherine, and Spot, and Crutchie, and all of them. And they probably did a lot more than me- But… doing that…” His gaze fixed on the half-moon illuminated the sky. “You feel invincible. For that moment, you’re on top of the world, and it’s like… Like you can’t even imagine being scared. I loved that feeling. I spent- I still spend- so much of my life feeling so goddamn scared. I _hate_ being scared, and this is so much worse than school, or bullies, or even the strike. Because I can’t win. I’m alone, and I’m doomed to lose. I talked hope and inspiration and plans into those boys. I- I _did something_. I _mattered_. And that’s almost worse, because I had that power and ability, and now I’m just helpless. I hate it, Sarah. I fucking hate it.”

“You’re not alone, Davey.” The words flew past her lips, faster than she thought they could have. “I’m here, and Jack is, and Katherine, and all of those boys. And our family will be. I promise. You won’t do this alone, and you do matter, and you aren’t helpless. We will figure out a way to cure you.”

“Thank you, Sarah.” He meant it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She ran a hand down his arm, stopping when it rested upon the still closed fist. “Are those…” Her fingers circled around the spaces between his fingers, wanting to coax the clenched hand open.

He pulled the fist away. “Petals? Yeah.” He met her eyes. “You don’t want to see them.”

“I do.”

“They’re bloody- they’ve been in my _throat_ -”

She shook her head. “No, I want to see the plant that thinks it can hurt my brother.”

He shook his head with a sigh and unfurled his fingers to reveal several small, crinkled petals that stood out a sharp red against the pale skin. “They were blue the first time,” he told her. “Then purple, white, pink, red- I don’t know what type of flowers they come from, and I don’t think it has any sort of meaning. Just to hurt.” She nodded, staring fascinated down at the collection of crimson petals. Part of her mind urged her to touch them, but she decided against it.

“You have to tell our parents.” She had held off saying so for the entirety of the conversation. She knew the way Davey’s face would pale with the words and the refusal that would follow. And, as she looked up from his once again closed hand, she saw she had been right.

“I can’t.” As expected, he looked away as he said no. But both of them were persistent, and Sarah wouldn’t give up so easily.

“It isn’t about ‘can’ or ‘can’t’, Davey. It’s about _have to_. You’re sick. They deserve to know.”

“They know the disease, Sarah. They know what causes it. They’ll ask-” He rambled, words rushing into each other. Then he stopped, and paused, and tried again. “I can’t tell them.” 

“Then don’t. Don’t tell them who it is, just tell them you have the disease.”

“They’ll _ask_ -”

She sighed and held his hand in hers. “It’s your information, not theirs, Davey. You don’t have to say what you don’t want to. And I’ll be right there with you.”

“Thank you, Sarah.” He paused. “It’s getting pretty cold. We should go inside.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this but i had a long, trying day so i just wanted to post something  
> Also I promise next chapter will be Jack's POV (i've even started writing it! i usually never do that before the previous one is posted)  
> as for this, i just... really love the sibling relationship between these two  
> But yes, this is still a lot of angst, the fluff will come eventually i swear
> 
> As always, tell me what you thought, and i hope you all had a great day!  
> (ps im iguessiwritestuffnow on tumblr if anyone wants to talk to me or send me prompts)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys i saw wicked today and i guess im not up to speed with broadway casts cause i did not know kara lindsay was going to play glinda??? I was so SHOOK holy shit. She was amazing and hilarious and i LOVE HER. i stood outside the stage door for like 20 minutes afterwards and then she came out and i talked to her and she took a picture with me??? I swear I was on the verge of tears. Officially the best moment of my life.
> 
> Now, back to the angst

“Hey, Dave,” Jack announced himself as soon as he climbed in the window. Davey wasn’t fond of him “sneaking in”, as he said. And as Jack was fairly certain Davey was already upset with him, he didn’t want to do anything to make that worse. “...Are ya busy?” He asked, surprised by Davey’s confused expression. Sarah said she’d tell him Jack was stopping by… 

“He’s never too busy for you, Jack,” Sarah was standing in the hall, smiling over at him. “I invited Jack over for dinner, Davey. I assume that’s fine?”

The look Davey shared with his sister wasn’t one that made Jack optimistic. “... Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He sounded so hesitant, and it was just confirmation of Jack’s worries. _He really is avoiding me._

Davey had been acting differently for nearly two weeks. He stopped inviting Jack over for dinner, shied away from Jack’s hugs, barely even looked at him. At first, Jack had just attributed the avoidance to the fact that Davey was sick (he wouldn’t admit it, but Davey was a shit liar and he couldn’t fool Jack). But the coughing lasted longer than a cold would have, and within two weeks, Davey’s skin had paled to a shade lighter it had been before, if that was possible, his dark circles deepened, and the smile that Jack adored disappeared almost completely. Jack wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong, but whatever it was, he would fix it.

“I was just coming in to get this.” She walked over and took the book Davey was holding out of his hands. He looked up at her, betrayed, and she whispered something like “ _talk to him_.” Jack wasn’t sure, of course, being several feet away, but the expression on Sarah’s face said that much itself. “Mama needs my help with dinner.”

“I can help too-” Davey offered, but he was immediately shut down.

“No, you can clean afterwards. Don’t leave our guest alone.” With that, she turned and half-ran from the room, book still in hand. Sarah Jacobs. What a woman. 

On any other day, Jack would have followed Sarah and asked her if she wanted his help, even if she had just refused Davey’s. But not today. “Hi, Davey.”

“Hi, Jack.” His smile was tentative, but at least it existed. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his whole long body folded on top of the chair he was sitting on.

“Dave.” He figured that Davey would dance around the topic for ages if he didn't just go out and say it. And he wasn't sure how long it would be before dinner would be ready. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Davey.” Jack met his friend’s gaze and smiled hesitantly. “You ain't a good liar. You’re sick or somethin’, right?”

Davey hesitated, glancing away before looking back at him. His hands were clenched in fists, and when he spoke, Jack could pick out a hint of hoarseness that had clung to his voice in the past few weeks. “I’m sick.”

“It ain’t too bad, is it?” Jack couldn’t help but worry. He’d tried to sound casual because he shouldn't overreact if Davey just had a cold or something. But colds rarely last two weeks. “Can’t exactly make livin’ when my sellin’ partner can’t go two minutes without coughing his lungs out.”

Davey made an attempt to smile- he was able to pick up on Jack’s jokes at this point, but it quickly faltered. “It's-” Davey stopped and sighed. And then he was standing, walking over to the bed Jack was reclined on and sat down next to him. His pinky skimmed the side of Jack’s hand and he wished he could intertwine their fingers. “It's called Hanahaki.”

There were plenty of words Jack didn't know, and diseases? He was hardly well-versed in those. _Just because I haven't heard of whatever it is that Davey’s got doesn’t mean it’s terrible._ The line didn’t really convince him. “You gotta give me more details than that, Davey.”

“There are flowers growing in my lungs.” 

Jack blinked slowly, trying to comprehend that words that had rushed out of his best friend’s mouth. “What?”

His fingers brushed against Davey’s and Jack was all too conscious of their closeness. But then Dave’s hand was moving away and wrapping his arms around his body. There was very little chill in the air, especially for late winter. Jack wondered why his friend seemed so cold. “It sounds ridiculous, I know. But it’s real. Passed down in families. My aunt had it, and now I have it-”

“So you just cough up flowers, then?” Jack couldn’t lie and say he quite understood how someone would have fucking plants growing in their organs, but he knew when Davey was lying, and he wasn’t about this. “How long does it last?”

“It takes a few weeks-”

Jack didn’t let him finish. When he had said the word ‘weeks’, Jack’s shoulders were already sagging with relief. He started speaking over Davey, lost in the alleviation of his worry. “Well, a few weeks ain’t that long! In no time-”

And then it was Jack being interrupted. “It takes a few weeks for the disease to kill me.” The voice was a low hiss, like Davey didn’t even want the words to be heard. His eyes were covered with the palms of his hands, fingers pale against the dark strands of hair that they were tugging against. There was a tenseness in Dave’s form that made it seem like he was shaking.

 _‘Kill’_. The word shot through Jack’s mind, unable to make itself comprehended. _No._ “Dave, that’s not fucking funny.” It had to be a joke. It wasn’t- it could not be true. “Don’t joke about shit like th-”

“Why the fuck would I joke about this.” The swear jolted a new fear into Jack’s spine. Davey only swore when he was furious or horribly upset, and the venom in the words paired the fear that laid behind them made it hard to figure out which one Dave was feeling. Likely both.

“I dunno. I don’t know, Dave!” He was practically shouting at him. The uneven surfaces of his fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm. “But you gotta be. Cause you ain’t dyin’-”

“I am,” Davey whispered, the sound a stark contrast to Jack’s raised voice. Control, calm, emotions hidden in a way Jack, for all his skill at lying, could seldom achieve. “I-I’ve accepted it-”

“Well, I sure as hell haven’t!” His voice lowered, suddenly more unsteady than he wanted it to be. No, he had never been good at hiding. “Were you even going to tell me?”

“I told you now.” Jack wished he could see the emotions sketched across Davey’s face- the lines of determination and hints of fear in his eyes- but Davey’s back was all he could see. His hands were so far from Jack’s, now, and he then he was standing and preparing to step away from the bed.

Jack gritted his teeth and reached out, clamping his hand around Davey’s wrist and turning the other boy to face him. “That’s bullshit, Dave. You ain’t allowed ta’ just go around keeping secrets this fucking huge. I’m gonna help you-”

“You can’t.” Davey was looking down at Jack, fully meeting his gaze, and Jack was suddenly reminded why he was glad Davey was his friend rather than his enemy. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be. “There isn’t a cure. There isn’t _anything_.”

“There has ta’ be. I ain’t acceptin’ this.”

“You should.”

“Davey Jacobs,” he spoke as he shortened the distance between them, wrapping the fingers of his other hand around Dave’s bare wrist. It occurred to Jack that if he only stepped a bit closer, he would easily be able to press his lips to Dave’s. Even though he knew the notion was ludicrous, he considered just doing it anyway. He didn’t know how long he had left to try. “Remember the strike? Remember you talkin’ sense into me at Medda’s? I would've given up that day- taken the money she gave me and left. And what woulda happened to you and Crutchie and the other boys? I wasn’t thinkin’ about none a’ that, then, Dave. I was just scared, and I can admit that. I was scared that Crutchie was gonna die, that I was gonna fail, that I would never get outta this goddamn city. But you, Davey-” He slid his hand down across Davey’s wrist so that his thumb brushed over his hand. “You convinced me ta’ keep tryin’. So I’m returnin’ the favor. I ain't gonna let you give up- not on your fucking life.”

“Jacky.” Davey had pulled his hand from Jack’s grip and let it hover only inches from Jack’s cheek. Jack tilted his face to the side, almost without thinking, wanting to feel the touch of Dave’s fingers on his cheekbones. It didn’t come. “There isn't-”

“There ain’t a cure, I got that, Dave.” He could feel the warmth of Davey’s hand where their fingers just barely brushed, and he was so tempted to lace their fingers together. _What’s the risk, now?_ As Jack intertwined their fingers, Davey didn’t flinch or move away. He held on tighter. “I just- I want you to talk ta’ me. You’re my-” _my everything_ “-my best friend. I can’t- I don’t know how-” Jack swallowed, suddenly feeling the wave of complete understanding crash over him. Davey was dying. Davey was going to die, and there wasn’t a thing Jack could do about it. But he wouldn’t let himself cry. “I can’t help ya if you don’t let me.”

Jack expected Davey to argue, or move away, or even to just ignore him. But, out of nowhere, Davey’s was wrapping his arms around Jack’s shoulders like a vice. Jack froze, only because he was too surprised to do anything else, but that moment of hesitation was all it took. Davey stepped away, face dusted with pink, and began to apologize. “I’m sorry, Jack. I-” Jack didn’t let him finish. He closed the distance and hugged Davey as tightly as he could, squeezing tighter when he felt Davey’s arms around him.

“Dave, if ya wanted a hug, you coulda just told me.” Davey’s weak laugh was muffled in the fabric of Jack’s shirtsleeve. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to hugging Dave- Jack was extremely tactile, so there it was rare for him to go a day without throwing an arm around Dave’s shoulder, or even giving him a quick hug. But those rarely lasted for more than a few seconds, and Davey seldom initiated them. And even the longer hugs, they never came with the type of closeness this one had. Davey’s heartbeat hammered against his, steady rhythm against racing pulse, and Jack never wanted to move away. Stepping away meant accepting why Davey had needed the hug. Stepping away meant acknowledging that sometime- sometime _soon_ \- Jack would lose the chance to hold Davey forever.

“I’m scared,” Davey admitted, after what could have been minutes, hours, or days- Jack couldn’t tell.

Jack barked out a laugh with a dearth of happiness. “Yeah, Dave. Me too.” And Davey held him tighter. “Have ya- have ya told your family yet?” As much as he knew it was wrong, Jack almost wished Davey would say no. He didn’t want to think that Dave trusted him so little as to have him be one of the last to know.

“I told Sarah and she told me to tell my parents.” Jack nodded and ran his hand through Davey’s hair. “And- and Les-” Davey’s face was hidden in Jack’s shoulder, but Jack was nearly positive that he was crying. “He knows I’m sick. He doesn’t know that I’m going to- he doesn’t know it’s killing me. I can’t tell him.” Jack’s body went stiff as he thought about Les. Only ten years old- far too young to lose a brother. _And Davey, hardly eight years older, far too young to die._ Jack couldn’t think of anything to say. “I will tell him. I have to. But I don’t- There’s no right way to tell him.”

“I can be there with you when ya tell him. If ya want.”

Davey was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “He cares a lot about you. I think that would help.” There was a brief lull in conversation. The room was so quiet that Jack could overhear someone chopping food in the kitchen. “Could you- when I’m… gone- could you take care of him?” Davey was definitely crying, and Jack was just barely holding back tears. He needed to be the strong one, for Davey. God knows Dave had returned the favor countless times. “He needs an older brother to watch out for him.”

The fabric of Davey’s shirt was stiff under Jack’s fingers. He gripped it so tightly that he was sure it would leave wrinkles. “It ain’t gonna come ta’ that, Dave. You are _not_ gonna die.”

“Just- just promise me. If I do. _Please_.” Davey’s voice cracked with desperation. His eyes- which Jack could see clearly now that his face was no longer buried in his shoulder- held the same resolve that gave Davey the ability to lead a strike, despite the tears clouding his irises. Jack wished he found it easier to say no to him.

“It ain’t gonna happen,” Jack said, again, more to himself than to Davey. “But, if it did-” The skin of Davey’s cheekbone was soft under Jack’s thumb. He was close enough to see the near-invisible array of light freckles on his nose. “I promise I’d take care a’ him.”

“Thank you.” Davey smiled, closed mouth and sad, but relieved nonetheless, and Jack was painfully reminded of how much he wanted to kiss him. Which was a horribly selfish, inappropriate thought to have at the time- at _any_ time. Davey was sick. That was what mattered, not stupid feelings that Jack couldn’t seem to rid himself of. 

He wanted to tell him. Three words, so simple in concept yet complex in practice. If he told Davey, the boy would probably hate him. But, if he didn't, he would definitely regret it. But would he regret it more if his last memories of Davey were of the other boy hating him?

Jack was always too impulsive.

With one hand still dangling loosely around Davey’s waist and the other cupping his face, he leaned a bit closer to him. “Davey…”

“Yeah?”

“I was just thinkin’,” He kept his voice low, but light. “Since we’re confessin’ shit-”

He didn't get a chance to finish speaking. The sound of Davey’s name being called, followed by his, then by the announcement of a ready dinner, made him halt the line of thought. He shuffled away from Davey, uncomfortably aware of the space between them. Davey was still looking at him, eyebrows furrowed as he reached for his hand. Jack stepped back again. “Jack?”

Jack put on a smile that he knew wouldn't convince Davey. He was too tired to try to hide. “It ain't nothin you gotta worry about.” Davey looked like he was about to protest, so Jack just grabbed his upper arm. “We should go. Don't wanna keep your folks waiting.”

Davey nodded, mouth a straight line. “Right. Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

It was better that he didn't have the chance to say it, Jack thought, as he sat in the dismal silence that permeated the dining area. Les was the only one who even tried to make conversation, his questions and comments earning feigned smiles from the older Jacobses. Jack would respond with grin that didn't meet his eyes. Looking at Les only reminded him of the promise he'd made, a promise he hoped he would never have to fulfill. And, if he did, (it wouldn’t come to that, he reminded himself) he would do a terrible job. Les deserved a brother like Davey, not Jack. 

Jack didn't like seeing Dave’s family so withdrawn and reserved. He was used to easy smiles and inside jokes and the kind of familial closeness that he had only heard about in made up stories. They weren't supposed to be this quiet, all glancing nervously at each and Davey, looking like he might drop dead at any second. Jack hated it. The soup sat undisturbed in his bowl; Jack didn’t have an appetite. As he pushed the dish aside, he found he couldn't remember the last time he'd passed up a free meal.

Davey asked to be excused from the table, bowl still full. He didn’t spare Jack a glance or a goodbye as he disappeared into the bedroom. A heavy sigh passed through Jack’s lips, and he stood. The silence was too much for him. He thought about going to the Lodging House. Maybe he needed to be in a room full of boys who talked and played poker and laughed without any knowledge that Davey Jacobs was dying. Maybe it would make him forget.

He doubted it.

He called out a goodbye to Dave, hearing only a mumbled “See you” in response. _Back to ignoring me, I guess._ Maybe Jack had done something wrong. Maybe Davey had pieced together what he was going to say and hated him. Maybe there were ways Davey would rather spend his quickly dwindling time on than Jack. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

Sarah thanked him as he prepared to leave. He knew her well enough by now to know it wasn’t just for accepting the dinner invitation. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder, waving to the other members of the family. When Les called out, asking him to stay later, he was tempted to do exactly that. But there was Davey, just a room over, coughs easily audible through the thin walls. He shook his head and stepped out the door, listening to it slam behind him.

Jack told himself to keep walking- get away from the apartment and Davey and a family that he would just disappoint. His legs betrayed him, buckling at the knees and leaving him sinking to the coarsely carpeted floor. The cold of the wall seeped into his back through his thin shirt and he started to feel the tears build in his eyes.

He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t like how vulnerable it made him feel, like he was still a seven-year-old kid with a dead mom and a dad that treated him like shit. He saved tears for the especially bad moments- getting Crutchie’s letter from the refuge, Kath breaking his heart (he had been heartbroken, then. Just because he had fallen for someone else in the time since didn’t mean that that pain was any less real), and for Davey. For Davey, who was hurting and dying and wouldn’t even let Jack help.

He covered his mouth to muffle a sob and felt hot tears streak across his face. It was better to be breaking down out here than in there, he thought. _Better to just not break down at all._ Jack stood, back of his hand wiping away the tears that he hated for existing. 

He needed to talk to Kath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik I say this in a lot of my fics but... im really worried about the characterization here. I need to rewatch newsies live to remind myself of their actual canon personalities.
> 
> Also this fic is so painful to write... i feel so bad for my boys. i just want them to be happy.  
> So i know this is out of 4 chapters but i'm thinking now that there will probably be another 2-3 chapters depending on whether or not i want a little epilogue-like thing. So just a heads up for that.  
> Please let me know your thoughts, creative criticism is appreciated, and as always, I hope you have a great day!!


	4. Chapter 4

“Jack Kelly,” Katherine leaned back in her chair as she noticed the boy standing in her doorway. It was a mystery to her, how exactly he’d gotten into her father’s mansion, but she never asked. Jack was a charmer, and surely he’d managed to befriend plenty of the staff who could sneak him in. “To what do I owe the honor?” He didn’t answer, leaving the room silent aside from his heavy footfalls. His approach was slow and steady, but soon he was near enough for her to see the red rings around his eyes. Something was wrong. “Jack, are you alright?”

“Not fuckin’ really, Kath.” He sat down on the edge of her writing desk, taking no mind to the papers already lying there. They were his priority no more than they were hers.

She looked up at him, noticing the way his shirt was wrinkled like he’d slept in it. The clock on her wall showed that it was barely seven am- he had gone to see her as soon as he woke up. “What’s wrong?” Her mind went to Sarah first- though, that wasn’t anything new. She didn’t trust the factories that the girl worked in. But she reminded herself, it wouldn’t be long until she was in charge of her father’s home and she could invite Sarah- as well as Jack and Davey and any kids on the streets- to live with her in luxury. But it wasn’t Sarah that had Jack worried- probably. There was no indication it would be. As an impossibly long list of terrible possibilities cycled through Katherine’s mind, it caught on one horrifying idea- one that was all too plausible, considering the amount of coughing she had heard in the past two weeks.

_Shit._

“Everything’s wrong, Kath. And I can’t do shit to fix it.” Jack’s fingernails dug into the table, dirt visibly trapped beneatht them. He raised the other hand to his mouth to cover his parted lips. She hadn’t seen him so broken since that day in Medda’s theatre when he told her and Davey about Crutchie’s letter. It only made her stomach sink further. “Davey is- Davey’s fuckin’ dyin’.” The words made a sound like a growl that could only come from a voice hoarse from crying.

“Jack-” She reached out to make contact with his arm, but he jerked it out of her grasp. “That- Davey-” She shook her head, slowly then faster, because yes, it made sense, but it _didn’t_ because Davey _couldn’t-_

“He has some- some goddamn disease- he’s got weeks, Kath. There ain’t nothin’ ta’ cure it. He’s gonna die.”

“What does he have?” Katherine tried to organize the facts in her head. Alright. Davey was sick. Dying. But he had time. What diseases went with coughing? Jack said there wasn’t a cure, but there _had to be a cure_. If his family couldn’t afford it, she would pay for it. Hell, she’d pay for it anyway. He would be fine. He would be fine.

“God, Kath, I dunno,” Jack said, voice muffled by his fingers. “The name was weird as shit. Hana- Hen- Hak- I was a bit too busy thinkin’ about my best friend _fuckin’ dying_ ta’ catch the name.” He paused. “It’s- there’s flower petals in his lungs. Suffocatin’ him.”

 _Flower Petals._ “Hanahaki,” She whispered the word, realization washing over her mind and leaving her cold. “Hanahaki is the disease, right?”

He nodded, a bit bewildered. “Yeah, yeah, that’s right. Ya know about it?”

“School project. We had to research diseases and I found the most obscure one I could-”

Jack rolled his eyes, but the look on his face was one of endearment- much better than the anger and crushing sadness. “A’ course you did.”

“Hanahaki,” she whispered, again, before raising her voice “So… who is it?” Kath had never really pictured Davey falling in love. She’d always viewed him as too practical. But he had, somehow, and been punished in a way no one should. But no- she shouldn’t lose hope. Maybe the person he loved loved him back. Maybe there was a chance.

Jack cocked his head to the side. “Whattaya mean, ‘who’? We’re talkin’ about Dave.”

“No, I mean…” _Did Davey not tell him?_ “Who is he in love with?”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. _He doesn’t know._ “The fuck does that have to do with this?”

“You never asked him what causes the symptoms of Hanahaki?”

“I assumed it was some family shit.”

“Genetics, yes. It is.” She stood from her seat, not like being so far away from him. He watched as she walked over and propped herself up on the desk next to him. If the papers hadn’t been completely eschew before, there was no way they were still neat. “But what actually triggers the growth of the flowers is the person who carries the gene falling in love. Unrequited love.”

“He didn’t say- I didn’t-”

“You said there wasn’t a cure?”

“There ain’t. He said there wasn’t shit to help him.”

She tapped her pen against the desk, calmed by the sound of metal on wood. “He’s lying. That, or he doesn’t know.”

His eyes widened and then he was grabbing onto her wrists and pulling her closer. “Lyin’? … Kath, are you fucking with me? There’s- are you sayin’ there’s a way he won’t die?” Confusion, fear, and just a touch of hope collided in his voice. She wished she had more helpful information. Something greater to share than the truth.

“He lives if the person he loves returns the feelings.”

Jack held on to wrists for seconds that seemed to pass like hours. Then, without a warning, he released her and leaned away. “He didn’t tell me. Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Maybe he didn’t know?”

“No.” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowing as he shook with anger. “He did. I know him, Kath. He likes havin’ all the answers. There’s no way he didn’t look this shit up. He knows and he kept fuckin’ insisting that ‘ _no, Jack, there’s no hope, there’s no cure, I’m going to die and you’ll just have to deal with it_ best friend, _cause I’m not going to even try to fix any of this. I could fix fucking everything but I_ won’t _I’m just going to die and leave you alone like everyone else-_ ’-” His voice rose steadily during his impersonation of Davey, crescendoing into a yell that was cut short as a sob escaped from his throat. She waited for him to catch his breath. Only then was he able to choke out a hoarse: “Why wouldn’t he let me help?”

“I guess... he didn’t want you to know?” It was the only explanation, one that Jack had surely already figured out for himself. His questions weren’t for her, anyway. They were for a boy who had lied to him for a reason neither she nor Jack could begin to fathom.

“But _why_?” He turned his head to look at her. A bitter grin spread over the right half of his mouth as shining tears streaked down his face. “You know what’s fucked up?”

“All of this?”

He snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, ya got that right.” His face fell. “He asked me to take care a’ Les. Like _I_ could make up fa’ Davey as a big brother. How the fuck does he expect me to replace him?”

“He \trusts you.” Kath knew how much Davey loved Les, even if they did bicker. If he trusted Jack to care for the kid-

“Obviously not enough to tell me that there was a way to keep him from dying.” He sighed. “I can’t- I can’t take care a’ Les. I’ll screw it up. I would mess up, and Les would get hurt, and then all the Jacobs would hate me. I can’t let that happen.”

“Jack, you’re getting ahead of yourself. There’s a reason he left you in charge of Les rather than any of the other boys- he believes you could do it. And so do I, for the record. But-” She reached out to take his hand in her own. It was cold and he was shaking. “It won't come to that. We aren't going to let Davey die.”

“Yeah, sure we ain't. We can't do nothing ta’ help if he won't let us.”

His hand was soft under Kath’s thumb. He moved closer to her and rested his head on her shoulder. “He would tell you.”

“Obviously he-”

She dispersed his argument with a shake of her head. “No, Jack. If you asked- and really, _really_ showed your need to know, I'm positive that he would tell you. He would do anything for you.”

“Except live, apparently.” He squeezed her hand and the warmth that shot through her arm brought a sad smile to her face. She liked taking care of Jack. She loved him- so much- even if it wasn’t the way she had expected when she kissed him during the strike. She was glad she still had him, like this, like a best friend or a brother, because it was hard to conjure the idea of a world without his friendship. “But really, I think you got it the wrong way ‘round. Dave- Davey’s a good guy- a _great_ guy. That doesn’t mean there ain’t plenty a’ things he wouldn’t do for me. Cause Davey’s smart. He’s all about that logic shit- weighing things out, calculatin’. But me? I ain’t like that. I’d fuckin’ die, if it’d save him. Hell, I’d die just to keep him from bein’ sad.”

Katherine shared the quick laugh with him, though neither could quite find the humor. His eyes were dark and glazed over and a single eyelash was resting over his cheekbone, caught in the stream of a falling tear. She reached over to remove the lash, brushing her hand against his cheek. The silence was ubiquitous. “…You love him, don’t you?”

He was quiet, not looking at her. His first “Yeah,” was barely a whisper, followed by a laugh that was more of an irritated snort. “Yeah. Yeah, Davey Jacobs has me fuckin’ infatuated. It’s great- I’m in love with him, I love him and he’s gonna die. Ain’t it just- just so fuckin’ fantastic.” He was angry, so angry, and Kath couldn’t begin to figure out if he was mad at Davey or himself or the disease or the universe. Maybe all of them. “As if I wasn’t fucked up enough.”

“You aren’t fucked up for loving him.”

“Society would beg ta’ differ.” He closed his eyes and placed his hands on either side of his jaw. Kath remembered why she had found him so beautiful when they had first met. She hoped Davey found him just as alluring.

“You led a strike. When have you ever cared what society thought?”

“We’re a bunch a’ goddamn rebels, I guess.” He kicked his legs back and forth, the desk trembling as the heels of dirty shoes made contact with the wood. “It just- it ain’t fair. Lotsa people are in love with people who don’t feel nothin’ for them. Hell- I’m one a’ them. So why is _Davey_ the one who’s gotta die?”

“Maybe he doesn’t- maybe his love unrequited.” Her tone was hesitant. She couldn’t back up any of her claims in a way Jack would believe. “Maybe he loves you t-”

“Don’t say shit like that, Kath.” His fingernails- too short to do damage- dug into the skin below his hairline. She grabbed his hands once again. “He doesn’t. Why the fuck would he? Davey’s way too good fa’ that.”

“And I wasn’t?”

He glared at her. “You didn’t like me.”

“I thought I did,” she clarified. She remembered the first time she’d tried to explain this to him. He had tried not to cry, but she could tell he was on the verge of tears. The image of Jack Kelly with tears building in the corners of his eyes haunted her for days afterward. It was then that she swore to do whatever it was she could to save their friendship. “I wanted to.”

“‘Wanted to’ doesn't mean shit. If whoever Dave loves just ‘wants to’ love him, he's still gonna die.” He jumped off of the desk and started walking toward the window. She followed in his footprints, the dirt of his shoes shaking off onto the wood floor. “And that's the proof, ain't it? It's all about _unrequited_ love. I love him- fuck, I really do- so if he loved me back he wouldn't even be sick, right?”

She leaned out of the open window. With the wind blowing her hair back in her face, she was reminded of the days she spent walking the streets of New York with Jack and the other newsies. She missed that time, now that her father was more serious about her education (she suspected that was more to do with him wanting to keep her away from the boys than anything else, though). In a few years, once she was out of college and her father was no longer in charge of her life, she would walk these streets as often as she could, buying papes from every damn kid selling. “Not really. Hanahaki, from the very limited studies that have been conducted on it, is shown a very physiological disease, just with physical symptoms. It isn't able to detect another person’s love- that would magic. He would have to know of and believe in the other person’s feelings in order to be cured.”

“Still sounds like magic ta’ me. Flowers in lungs. What the hell.” His breath fogged in the air as he exhaled. “I… I really love him.”

 _The sky is so bright,_ Kath thought, _for a day so cold_. “I know, Jack. And… I mean, with him dying, I could never- I don’t know what that’s like. But I understand how it feels to love someone so much it feels like your heart could shatter at any second.”

“You should tell her, then,” He said, a half grin on his face. “Cause maybe she’s gonna start dyin’ and not even tell ya’ about it. That’s a thing her family does, it seems.”

“‘Her’?”

He snorted. “Ya think I don’t know ya well enough ta’ know you’re gone over Sarah Jacobs? What kinda friend do ya take me for?”

She grinned. “The best friend, Jack.”

“That’s right.” He paused. “You really should tell her, though.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Shaddup.”

She leaned against him. “I’ll tell her if you tell Davey.”

He pursed his lips and hummed a monotone pitch. “You really think I should?”

“Yes, I really do. He deserves to know and you deserve the closure, even if that’s all the comes of it.”

A slow nod. “I gotta try ta’ figure out who he loves first. And then, when I’m sure it ain’t me- which I already am, mostly- I’ll help him find the person he loves. I’ll convince them ta’ return his feelings. And then Davey will be happy and alive and in love. And me? I’ll-” He was about to cry again and Kath think she might just join him. “I’ll tell him. Maybe he won’t hate me. Maybe we’ll still be friends. Because I- I don’t need him ta’ love me back. He’s just gotta stay alive.”

She nodded and cautiously pulled him against her. He stood still in her embrace. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“...I love you.”

“Love ya, too.” And he returned her hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i LOVE jack and kath's character chemistry. like these queer kids are such good buddies  
> as per usual im not completely happy with this/its characterization but im using data to post this since i don't have wifi, so i can't go back and edit it a bunch of times like i usually do (also pls catch any grammar/spelling mistakes cause spellcheck doesn't work great without wifi)  
> anyway so we're almost done with this!! the next chapter is the last real chapter and then there will be a short epilogue-like thing. Thank you so much for all the feedback I've gotten- really it means so much and I basically live off of comments now.
> 
> Thank you again and I hope you have a great day!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, guys. Good luck!

Davey supposed that he had been doing the right thing in avoiding Jack for the past two weeks. Since he’d found the first petal, his conditions had worsened slowly and progressively, amounting in a sickness that only barely let him make it through his conversation with Jack without coughing his lungs out. And yet, that was nothing compared to how much worse he got in the fifteen hours since. He didn’t have specific data and figures, but he could tell that being around Jack was the direct cause of his deteriorating health. Logically, he knew that he was better off spending his last days without seeing the other boy at all. It would give him some more time, even if it wasn’t much. But he was dying- he still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around that- and, for once, he wasn't tempted to be so logical.

Talking to Jack the way he had the previous night, where Davey really, truly confided in him, had only reminded Dave that he hated living without Jack as a constant in his life. Maybe it would kill him faster, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He would spend every moment he could with Jack before all of his moments were spent.

If he ever managed to get out of bed.

 _Is it even possible to feel_ this _terrible_? He wondered as a cough forced its way out of his lungs. There had never been a time in his life, he was sure, that he had been _this_ tired. He hadn’t slept for more than an hour consecutively in weeks. Short bursts of dreamless sleep were regularly interrupted by fits of intense of coughing, leaving his pillowcase stained with blood and the pigments of crushed flowers. His mother had brought him a cleaning bucket for him to cough the petals into. He’d filled it completely in just an hour after Jack had left. 

It had also gotten harder to breathe, he noticed. Every inhale he took was shallow, half of the oxygen lost amongst the stems that had steadily climbed up the sides of his throat. He could feel their thorns liking tiny spears poking into the sides of his trachea and wondered, could the barbs grow strong enough to puncture his lungs? Would that kill him faster than suffocation would? He couldn’t decide which would be worse.

“Good morning, Davey,” His mother’s voice was a whisper as she entered the small room. Her footsteps were quiet, probably trying not to wake Les and Sarah, who were still asleep in the bed across from Davey’s. It would be better for Les’s sleep if he didn't share with Davey while the elder was sick with coughs that could easily wake the younger. Davey felt a stab of guilt when he realized it had been himself who woke his mother. He hated being a nuisance.

“Morning, mama.” He sat up to be greeted immediately by a hand on his forehead. Esther checked his temperature every day, despite his constant lack of a fever. As far as he could tell, she was just hoping that one of the days, it would turn out that his coughing was a result of a far less deadly disease. She’d already lost a sister to Hanahaki. He hated himself for making her lose a son as well. “I can wake up Les in a few minutes and we can go.” He held back a series of coughs that begged to escape from his lungs. He didn't need his mother to worry any more than she already was.

She hummed in response, not saying anything for a moment. “David, love, I was thinking.” She sat down on the bed and ran her fingers through his hair. The gesture was so maternal and Davey couldn't decide if he disliked or was comforted by it. “You've gotten worse. Maybe… Maybe you shouldn't be spending time on the streets. Les is old enough to get to the distribution center by himself and surely Jack can take care of him after that.”

“But-” A million protests came to mind. No, _no_ , he would not spend his last days being patronized and cared for like an invalid, kept away from Jack. “Mama, I can still make money, we still need the money, we still need-”

“Not as much as we need you healthy.”

“I’m not getting better either way.” He didn’t mean to snap at her. She was hurting just as much as he was and he hated that he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. _One would think that having flowers shoved up your windpipe would make you less likely to speak without thinking_. The sinking feeling of guilt deepened as he saw her try to hide the pain. She shouldn’t have to be strong for him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- that wasn’t right of me to say.”

“It’s alright, Davey,” she lied. “But I still think it would be best for you to stay in, just for today. We could spend some time together- it’s been awhile since we have.” The last time Davey could remember clearly that he and his mother spent the day together was when he had the flu in ninth grade. As much as school- specifically, the people there that teased him- was unpleasant, he was still aggrieved to miss a few days. It was a much simpler time, then. He wondered if he would go back, if he had the chance.

On that train of thought, would he stop his father from breaking his arm, if he could? His family would be better off and, because he would have never met Jack, he wouldn’t be dying. But that was it: _he wouldn’t have met Jack._ Or any of the other newsies, or Katherine. School hadn’t been kind to him, and he’d never had friends before that, not real ones. He wondered if they would miss him. No one from his school would.

 _The newsies will miss him_. Even in his head, the assurance felt empty. But, no. He _was_ important to them. Not to mention that maybe, without him, there wouldn’t have even been a strike- though that may be a reach. He probably wasn’t _that_ important- the strike was Jack’s, not his. But even his small part in their mini revolution was real, it mattered.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

“But-” He stuttered, bringing himself back out of his thoughts. “What about Jack-” The pity in Esther’s eyes deepened. Davey hadn’t told her who he was in love with- he was too scared; he was such a fucking coward, this whole endeavor only proved it- but she was his mother. If anyone could figure it out, it would be her. But she hadn’t said a word. “Jack and the other boys. I don't want-”

“Jack can come and visit whenever you want him to.” She didn't get it. Davey wanted to tell her: _no, I don't want him to have to visit me. I want to be with him, selling and talking and laughing. I want him to be my best friend and I don’t want to feel anything else for him. I want to not fucking die._

He didn't say any of that. “Mama…”

“Please stay here today, Davey.” The pain in her eyes was so visible. He didn't want to put her through any more hurt. He nodded, slowly.

“Okay. I will.”

She smiled at him, leaned over, and pressed her lips to his forehead. He pretended he couldn't feel the tears fall onto his temple.

******

“Ya know what's funny?”

If Davey was to make a list of things he didn’t expect to see in the doorway of his room at ten am that day, a horribly annoyed Jack Kelly wouldn’t be too far from the top. The book he was holding slipped out of his hands, crashing down onto his knees as a confused: “Jack?” fell from his lips. He moved to make himself look a little more presentable, anxiety swirling in his mind throughout every movement. _Why is Jack here? Where’s Les? Why is Jack so mad?_

“You’re right, Dave. I am pretty fuckin’ hilarious.” Where his tone was usually light, jovial, and a bit sarcastic, it was now dull and exasperated. He didn’t move from the doorway. He just stood, picking at a loose thread on his shirt.

“Why aren’t you with Les?”

Jack’s eyes wouldn’t meet his. “Left him with Racetrack. The guy loves the Les. The kid will be fine.”

“Leaving him with other people is exactly the opposite of what I asked you to do.” Davey regretted the words as soon as he said them. Jack’s mouth pulled back in a snarl and, yes, Davey definitely struck a nerve.

“Really, Dave? You have no right to bring that up to make me feel bad. You had no right to force me into that position in the first place.” Davey’s hands clenched into fists as he took in the venom of Jack’s voice. He’d been able to tell, easily, that Jack hadn’t been comfortable with being put in charge of Les, but he’d thought- Jack cared about the younger boy and Les returned the brotherly affection. There was no one better to take care of him. Davey thought Jack would agree. 

“You seemed fine with it last night.”

One of Jack’s hands was tangled in his hair and the other was raised in disbelief. “You were fuckin’ crying! What kinda person would I be if I’d refused?” A knot tied itself in Davey’s stomach. _Of course_ he made the promise out of pity. Probably the hug, too, and all of the comfort he spared Davey. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Even if he had hoped, for just a second, that when Jack mentioned confessions-

He was stupid. He was stupid to think anything else could come of their friendship.

“Dave-” Jack stepped closer. He still felt too far away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry.”

“Why are you here?” He doesn’t mean to sound rude. He was just so, so tired.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “’Cause I ain’t too happy with ya’.”

“What’d I do?”

“Ya lied.” 

“That’s a thing people do, Jack.” He wouldn’t deny it- he had lied. About a lot of things. He just hoped, with every fiber of his being, that what Jack had found out had nothing to do with who Davey was in love with. Because if Jack was actively angry at him for it? Davey wouldn’t be able to take it. “You more than anyone I know.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, yeah Dave. You ain’t wrong.” Some of the tension in the room had dissolved. Davey tried giving Jack a tentative smile and exhaled when it was returned. “I dunno, Davey.” _Don’t know what?_ “I guess, since you’re such a shit liar, it’s really a surprise when you manage to do it successfully. Hurts, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I really don’t think ya are.” He sat down next to Davey and it was so similar to the previous night. Dave thought back to when Jack had taken his hand in his own. _Would he do it again?_ “Ya can’t just- Well, I guess, ya can. But.”

“Jack, what is it?” Part of Davey just wanted to get it over with. Say, _Jack, I love you and I’m dying. I’m sorry for both of those things. Please don’t hate me. I love you._ But Jack was the impulsive one. Not him.

“You’re in love with somebody.”

 _I’m in love with you._ “Yes.”

“And that’s why you’re dyin’.”

 _Dying for you._ “Yes.”

“...And you live, if she loves you back.”

_And I live, if you love me back._

_You don’t._ “Yes.”

Jack stared at him for a second, before smiling and turning away. “That a shitty deal.”

“It sure is.”

The backs of their hands were pressed against each others. When Davey moved to intertwine their fingers, they seemed to knit perfectly together. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Davey didn’t say anything. Jack glanced at him. “You ain’t gonna say nothin’? Alright. Don’t think you’re gonna answer this one, either, but I can try.” He paused. “So, who is she?”

Jack was too stubborn and he would get the truth out of Davey at some point. Davey was too tired to try to lie about everything. He could make some exceptions. “Not she. I’m in love with a boy.” He told himself he wouldn’t care if Jack pulled his hand away like he was burned. He’d spoken quite a lot with Sarah and she’d convinced him: they weren’t wrong for loving people of the same gender. People were wrong for spreading hate. If Jack hated him, he wasn’t worth Davey’s love.

If only it was that easy to not care what Jack thought.

Jack didn’t pull his hand away. He didn’t flinch or stare or yell. He just hummed and rubbed the side of Davey’s hand with his thumb. “Okay. Who is he?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

There was a heavy despair lacing Jack’s laugh. “You make it really fuckin’ hard not ta’ be mad, Dave, when you say all that cryptic shit.” He paused. “I was really ready ta’ just come in here and yell. I was so fucking angry when Kath told me there was a cure. I mean, happy, too, a’ course, but also mad, cause I knew you wouldn’t even _try_ to fix this. And you wouldn’t- ya didn’t even _tell_ me, Dave. Ya know how shitty that feels? Your best friend won’t even tell ya why he’s dying or how ta’ help. I feel so fuckin’ useless, Davey. I don’t want ya- I _need_ ya’ ta’ live.”

Davey swallowed and squeezed the hand in his. “I- I know. I don’t want to die, either.”

“Coulda fooled me.” His smile fell as quickly as it had appeared. “Ya know… I would do anythin’, _anything_ , ta’ fix this. Please. Let me find this boy for you. He’ll love you. He’s gotta.”

“He doesn’t.” _His hand is in mine, right now, and I love him- you, and you can’t fix this._ It hurt even more, as the realization set in. If Davey told him, Jack would try to force himself to love Dave. And, god, that would be intolerably painful. “I couldn’t make him.”

Jack looked all too ready to argue, but he was cut short by a fit of coughs forcing their way out of Davey’s throat. He yanked his hand away from Jack’s and buried his hand in his elbow, hating the how hideous the sound of his coughing was. His lungs ached as they tried, so fruitlessly, to force the goddamn flowers out of his body. Thorns scratched his tongue and it was almost alarming how numb to the taste of blood he was. Petals fell from his mouth onto his lap, the bed sheets, and Davey was glad he turned away because he didn’t want them falling on Jack as well.

It took a full two minutes, almost, for that batch of petals to exit his throat. He coughed once more, then twice, then turned back to Jack. “I’m sorry.” His hoarse voice was muffled with the hand he was wiping over his mouth.

“That ain’t what ya got to apologize for.” One of Jack’s hands rested on his shoulder with the thumb lightly tracing patterns into his collarbone. “Please… Please, Davey. Tell me.”

“I wish I could.”

“Such a bullshit phrase.” Jack pulled his hand away. Davey hated the way his voice raised in anger, but what could he do? “Obviously you don’t fuckin’ wish that, or ya would just tell me.”

“Jack, you don’t- you don’t get it.” _I love you. I love you. I love you._

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as his hands pulled into fists. It was like when Davey had confronted him about Les, but so, so much angrier. “Huh, Dave, you’re right. I don’t get why you’re so fuckin’ ashamed over your little _crush_ that ya ain’t even able ta’ tell me who it is ta’ save your life.” Davey winced when he said “crush”. It was so much more than that, and Jack surely was aware. “No, I _don’t_ get that, Dave. But ya know what I do? I know what it feels like to have people ya- ya care about die, with _nothin’_ you can do to stop it. I watched my old man shoot my mother, right in front a’ me. Do ya know what it feels like, Davey, to see that? And, do you know how it feels to try ta’ take care of a bunch a’ kids thrown on the street? Havin’ ta’ watch them freeze and starve and tryin’ so fucking hard ta’ keep them alive but ya just _can’t save them_? Or ta’ have your friend- your _brother_ carted away, beaten and bloody, ta’ the Refuge, all fa’ _your_ cause? Crutchie, he- he coulda _died_ there and it woulda been _my fault_. And if you die, Dave? I can’t- I couldn’t fucking handle that. Watchin’ Les grow up- I bet he’ll look like you, a bit. I couldn’t see that every day. Every day I’d hafta remember that you died because I wasn’t able ta’ get no information outta ya.” They were both crying, at that point. Two disasters sat two feet apart with miles between them. “So, yeah, Dave. Don’t tell me I don’t get it.”

Davey tried desperately to catch his breath, Jack’s words still at the front of his mind, as if he’d slapped them across Davey’s face. “It isn’t-” he managed. “It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“And I know that. I know it ain’t. It’s yours- _yours_ \- but since you won’t step up and take responsibility, someone’s gotta.” He wiped his hand over his eye, leaving the side of his face wet and shiny. “I just- I don’t _get_ how ya think it's worth it. Is it worth dyin’, worth Les losin’ his brother, and me-” He cut himself off, glancing away. “Is it worth all that shit, just ta’ keep yourself from havin’ ta’ risk facing rejection?”

“That’s not-” He didn’t _get it._ “There’s not a risk. I know what would happen. There’s no possible reward, there is no happy ending. All that would happen is I would learn what I already know and a person I really care about might hate me.”

“You can’t be sure a’ that, Dave.” He sounded a bit calmer, but he was still faced away from Davey. _Maybe he already hates me._

“I am. He doesn’t love me.” He wished he could just get that through Jack’s head. Maybe then he could stop asking and he and Davey could just talk about nothing. What did they used to discuss before this? It seemed like ages ago, and Davey could hardly remember.

“Have you asked him?

 _How could I?_ “No, Jack. I couldn’t.”

“Ya know, Dave, last I checked, you can’t read minds. If ya’ don’t ask, ya’ don’t know that.” The voice sounded like it was being forced through gritted teeth. The anger in the air was numbing. 

“But I do.”

“Goddamn it, Dave.” Jack slammed his hand on the bed sheets and Davey flinched away. Jack glanced back at him, half-apologetic, before launching into his rant. “You’re so- Fuck. Dave. You ain’t got the right ta’ wallow in self-pity just cause you’re sick. Ya’ can’t just- just _accept_ this shit cause you ain’t ready ta’ do nothin’ about it. I ain’t lettin’ ya’ die without a fight.” Jack’s hand was on his knee and his eyes were staring straight at Davey’s. His voice was too loud and Jack was too mad and Davey just wanted it to _stop._

“Well, guess what, Jack? You can’t make me do anything.” He was tired. So, so tired. Tired of having to stay calm and listen to Jack try so hard to get something he wouldn’t want. He wanted to fight. “Just because you’re _Jack Kelly_ , strike leader, whatever else, doesn’t mean you can intimidate me into changing my decision.”

Jack raised his palms to the ceiling before curling them back into fists. “What the fuck? I’m tryin’ ta’ help ya, Davey, cause you ain’t willing ta’ do nothin’ fa’ yourself. I’m tryin’ ta’ help, cause I thought we was _friends_. Sorry that I was wrong about that.”

“Jack-” Davey’s head was racing with apologies- _of course_ they’re friends, they _have to be_ friends- but his tone comes out more belligerent than anything else. “I don’t want your help.”

“You don’t deserve it.” The words stung, a pain so much sharper than the dull ache ever present in his lungs. “Ya don’t fuckin’ deserve none a’ what I’m doin’, or what your sister is, or your ma, if ya don’t even try yourself.” Jack was shouting. Hands were curled into fists and had he been anyone else, Davey would have worried Jack would try to punch him. “Why is it so- so _fucking_ hard for ya ta’ just tell me who it is?” 

“Because it’s _you_.” The words flew out of Davey’s mouth before he could stop them. Tears that had been building in his eyes overflowed, spilling down his cheekbones as he watched Jack take a small, subtle step back. No, _no_. “Because… it’s you.” He repeated. There was no point in denying it. “Do you get it, Jack?” His voice was no longer raised, but still so bitter. “Do you understand why I wouldn’t want to die having my best friend hate me?”

Jack reached out a hand but Davey stepped away. _Please don’t give me sympathy_. “Davey-”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“-I love you.” And then Jack was smiling, tentative but joyous, so, _so_ optimistic. 

Davey tried to freeze the moment in his mind. Jack telling him he loved him, wide smile and eyes glowing. He wanted to remember the millisecond-long burst of hope in his chest that felt so light and warm. He wanted to forget the crushing feeling of remembering that this was _Jack_ he was speaking to. Jack, who could lie to the world and have them love him for it. Jack, who would weave any untrue story to protect his family of newsboys. Jack, who would, surely, say three words he didn’t mean if he thought it would save his friend’s life.

“Jack… That isn’t how this works.” He shut his eyes. He couldn’t see Jack when it all fell apart. “You can’t just- just _say that_ and expect me to be fixed. It has to be true.”

“It is, Dave.” His eyes were still closed but he could feel Jack’s hands on his shoulders. “I think it’s the truest thing I ever said. God, Davey, I love ya.”

“You don’t.” He hated that he was crying. “Please stop saying that. It won’t work and it only hurts more.”

“Davey. David. Love, please look at me.” Davey’s eyes were already opening to meet his the moment “ _love_ ” passed through Jack’s lips. He hated himself for the tiny glimmer of hope blooming in his stomach, just beneath the ache of his lungs. He was so close to the sun- just waiting for the wings to melt and for him to crash down into the ocean. “Whattaya think I was gonna tell ya’ last night? What else would I be confessin’?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. Something.”

Jack chuckled and reached up to brush the tears away from Davey’s face. He knew he should move away; this wasn’t _real_. But it felt so much like it was. “‘Somethin’? Only somethin’ I wanted to say is that I love ya.” Jack pressed a kiss to his temple and another sob forced its way through Davey's body. Why did Jack Kelly have to be so goddamn convincing? “I love you, and if ya’ die cause I ain’t able ta’ convince ya’ of that-” His face was covered in tears, a mirror to Davey’s own. “I’d never forgive myself.”

“It doesn’t work if the love isn’t real,” Davey muttered. It was more to himself than to Jack.

“I know, Dave. What do I need ta’ do to convince you that it is?” 

“Look at me.” Jack already was. But Davey pulled his closer, practically nose to nose, so all he could see were dark eyes. “Swear that you love me. Promise me it isn’t a joke or just a way to try to keep me alive.”

“I love you.” There was no hesitation, no break in eye contact, nothing that would belie his words. “I swear on myself, on my paints, on- on the whole of Santa fuckin’ Fe.” Jack was smiling, and crying, and almost on the verge of laughing. “I love you, Davey Jacobs.”

And Davey let himself believe.

He stumbled backwards and sunk to the floor as he felt a rush of air flood into his lungs- his lungs, which were no longer full and heavy. A hand rose to his throat, where there was nothing but room to breathe. He coughed- once, twice, just to see- nothing. He was shaking as a new round of tears rose to his eyes. He was okay. The flowers were gone. He was- he was going to _live._

And Jack- “You love me,” Davey whispered, looking up at the other boy. Jack was nodding, crying as hard as Davey was. And smiling just as wide.

“Yes. Yes, Davey. I love you.”

“You love me.” His voice was louder, almost a laugh. Jack put out his hands to help Davey stand. Dave took them, only to decide about a moment later to pull Jack down on the floor with him. He loved the way Jack instantly hugged him and buried his head in his neck, murmuring over and over again: _I love you_.

“I’m so sorry, Dave.” He kissed the side of Davey’s neck. “This is my fault-”

“It isn’t. It’s no one’s fault.”

“Yeah, but all that shit I said to ya? God, Dave, I didn’t mean any a’ that.”

“Jack, I know.” He took Jack’s face in his hands, smiling down at him. “I said plenty of things I didn’t mean, too. We were scared and upset.”

Jack nodded. “I was so scared, Dave. Livin’ without ya ain’t somethin’ I ever wanna do.”

“I don’t want to live without you either, Jacky.” He pressed his lips to the corner of Jack’s mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Jack’s hand rubbed small circles into his back, letting them just enjoy the quiet presence of the other. “...I saw Sarah and your ma on my way in. You should probably tell them that you’ll be okay.”

Davey nodded. “I will.” He was so tempted to just run out and do it that second. Sarah would probably tell him that she told him so, even as she cried. And his mother… She wouldn’t have to lose someone else to Hanahaki. “Just… five more minutes of lying here. Please.”

Jack grinned lazily as if he was half asleep. _He’s so beautiful._ “No complaints from me.” He was quiet for a minute. “Hey, Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck Hanahaki.”

Davey’s laugh mingled with Jack’s in the air as he wrapped the other boy in his arms. “Fuck Hanahaki,” he concurred, and pressed a gentle kiss to Jack’s forehead.

They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys writing four and a half chapters of angst was Trying so I'm glad that's out of the way. I need my boys to be happy. Also wow this got really sappy at the end, sorry for that.  
> So the next chapter is just like a really small epilogue that probably will be < 1000 words. We'll see when that happens.  
> This is the first piece of writing longer than ten thousand words that I've written in months?? This has been such a wild ride and thank you all so much for the comments and support (even though it takes me like three days to respond to comments- I am sorry)  
> Tell me what you think, I love you all, have a lovely night!
> 
> edit: GUYS WAIT THERES 413 JAVID FICS NOW ITS TIME TO PARTY  
> (yes im still a fucking homestuck in 2017 its okay if your opinion of me is ruined i hate myself too)

**Author's Note:**

> why do i keep writing Davey dying? any idea for an angst fic i have usually involves davey dead/dying
> 
> okay but it will be happy eventually!!! I promise!!! (and will hopefully have longer chapters cause this is very short) (and also more characters. and a Jack POV probably)
> 
> But yeah i've been posting a lot??? procrastinating my summer work sure gives me a lot of time to write gay pining kids  
> As always, tell me what you think, i'm having a bit of writer's block on chapter two so... both criticism and encouragement help a lot in that department. If you're in America, i hope your fourth of july was great, and if you're in britain, i hope your 'losing the colonies day' was great, and if you're anywhere else, i'm so sorry for americans. really. we're a mess. blame our president


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